


The Lady of Niflheim

by miraellie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Demisexual Sigyn, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27123583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraellie/pseuds/miraellie
Summary: Sigyn Njordardottir, desperate for work, arrives at the equally desperate Niflheim Manor to be a maid. She intends to keep her head down, work hard, and not get into any trouble. But as the strangeness of Niflheim grows and Sigyn meets the lonely daughter of the Manor's Lord, she's pulled into the strangeness, whether she wishes to be or not.(In other words, it's Gothic romance AU time.)
Relationships: Loki/Sigyn (Marvel)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	1. Niflheim Manor

A hard bump jarred Sigyn out of her dozing state. The carriage wheels creaked loudly as they continued their travel down what must have been the worst road in the country. For a brief moment, Sigyn feared the carriage might overturn, and couldn’t bring herself to relax when it stayed upright.

With a small sigh, Sigyn rubbed her aching neck and pulled the curtain back from the carriage window. A bare landscape of yellow grass and grey skies greeted her, the same landscape she’d been traveling through for hours. Pulling a gold watch out of her coat pocket, she checked the time. She must have slept for longer than it had felt: She should be arriving at the estate soon.

Running her fingers over the initials carved into the back of the watch, Sigyn tried to focus on the cool smoothness of the metal instead of her nerves. Stupid to be nervous over something like beginning a new position, but there she was. She worried about not doing a good enough job, about making one mistake too many, and being let go.

The fact that they had hired her without even seeing her only worsened her anxiety. It meant they were desperate. A desperate household was never a good thing. Perhaps the master was cruel, or thought he could do whatever he wanted with the maids. If he turned his sight on her, what would she do?

Sigyn let that thought linger, then laughed quietly. When had she come to expect the worst in everything?

The carriage hit another bump, rattling her teeth. Never mind the fact that she needed the money desperately – she would work as hard as she could so as not to have to travel on this road again for a very long time.

_You’re being ridiculous,_ Sigyn told herself. _You were more or less a maid for your father for the past three years. You know what you’re doing. At least now you’ll be getting paid._ Fifteen pounds a year would be tight, but she could make it work. She had to.

A slight change in the sound of the wheels on the ground told Sigyn that they had rode onto gravel. A grateful sigh escaped her. That meant they were close to the end. She was pulling her threadbare coat tighter around herself when she heard the carriage driver slow the horses down.

Opening the door, Sigyn stepped out, her boots immediately finding a mud puddle. Biting back a groan, Sigyn took a deep breath of the chilly air and tightened her grip on the handle of her traveling bag, the only bag she’d brought with her.

The horses’ breaths steamed as she went up to them. Stroking their long noses, Sigyn quietly said, “Thank you for seeing us here safely.”

“What was that?”

The driver gave her an odd look. Sigyn smiled politely and said, “Thank you for seeing me here safely, sir.”

“Ah, right,” the driver, a Mr. Tyr, said. His nose was red from the chill. “Weren’t no trouble, miss.”

“Even so,” Sigyn said. She peered at the stables and what she could see of the manor so far. Tendrils of ivy, pale and withered, grew along weathered dark grey stones. The wood of the stables was in need of replacing.

The manor was at least three stories tall, and Sigyn’s back already ached at the thought of having to climb so many stairs and clean so many rooms.

_Don’t think about it just now,_ she told herself. She turned to Mr. Tyr. “I’ll just see myself to the kitchens, then.”

He didn’t look up from his task of unburdening the horses. “Aye, miss.”

Sigyn paused briefly, uncertain, her gaze drifting down to his one hand. She waited a moment for a stable boy to come out and help Mr. Tyr, but when none seemed forthcoming, she said, “I, um… would you like some help, Mr. Tyr? I know my way around a carriage rack.”

Mr. Tyr stopped in his work and gave her a once over. It wasn’t the first time he’d given her that piercing gaze throughout their journey. Her accent wasn’t perfect, and Sigyn had the suspicion he was onto her.

“No need, miss,” Mr. Tyr said gruffly. He finally looked away from her and went about his work. “Kitchen’s right round the corner.”

Without noting that there were two different corners she could go round and that his directions were less than helpful, Sigyn went off in one direction first. She could see a hint of a garden from her vantage point, or what she assumed to be a garden. Much like the ivy covering the walls of the manor, it was mostly dead. Unusual for so early in the season.

To her surprise, Sigyn found she’d guessed the right direction as she came upon the kitchen door. It was closed in an attempt to keep the chill out. She peered in through the small window set high in the door, but her breath fogged it too much for her to see clearly.

She was about to knock, but stopped. Glancing over her shoulder, Sigyn peered at her surroundings, feeling eyes on her back. Nothing stood out to her but she still couldn’t shake the sensation. It wasn’t until she looked up that she saw a pale face in one of the manor’s windows gazing down at her.

Startled, Sigyn raised a hand without thinking. The girl—for it was a girl, a young one—merely stared at her before turning away from the window.

The sudden opening of the kitchen door made Sigyn jump, a quiet gasp escaping her.

A woman maybe only a decade older than Sigyn stared at her. A stained apron and plain dress marked her not as a maid, but as the cook.

“Excuse me,” Sigyn said, awkwardly lowering her hand. “I’m Sigyn Njordardottir, the new—”

“The new maid,” the cook said, raising an eyebrow as her grey eyes looked Sigyn over.

She knew she made a rather sad first impression, with her shabby, out-of-style clothes. Still, she bristled at the slight judgment she saw in the cook’s expression.

The cook finally opened the door fully and moved aside to let Sigyn in with a long sigh. “I’m Fulla, the cook. You will report to Miss Dagny, the other maid of the house.”

Sigyn paused in her perusal of the kitchen, which was older than she’d expected. It had to have been decades since it was last updated. “Ah – _Miss_ Dagny? Not Mrs…?”

Fulla set a teapot over a fire and gave Sigyn one last look. “We run Niflheim on a small crew, miss. There’s only the master and his daughter. Only parts of the manor are open; there’s no need to waste servants on a small thing like this.”

The cook nodded to the long dining table that took up space in part of the kitchen. “Sit and I’ll make you some tea. Miss Dagny will be down soon to see you to your room and go over your duties.”

Deciding the cup of tea would help with the lingering chill, Sigyn perched at the edge of the bench. Biting her tongue, she watched as Fulla moved about the kitchen, wondering.

_Such a curious thing you are,_ her sister had always teased her. _Never lose that curiosity, Sigyn._

Unable to help herself, Sigyn said, “There’s no lady of the house, then?”

Fulla pursed her thin lips and stared hard at Sigyn. Just as she was about to apologize, the kettle gave a sharp whistle and Fulla turned away to pull it off the fire. She went about making the tea in silence. When she set the cup on the table in front of Sigyn, it was with a hard thump.

“As I said. Only the master and his daughter,” Fulla said.

Sigyn was the first to break their staring match. “Right,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t given much detail before I came here.”

The only response Fulla gave her was more silence. Sigyn decided she had better quit while she was ahead and focused on her tea. Her fingers found rough patches in the table, and she stopped herself from tracing it lest she get a splinter.

Her gaze found the bells mounted on the wall, tiny plaques underneath each one to tell the servants to which room they were being called. Sigyn frowned. Only a handful of rooms had bells, as the rest had been taken down. The dining room, the sitting room, a study, and two bedrooms.

So much space for only two people. _What a waste,_ Sigyn thought. Whereas most others had to live practically on top of each other, a man and his daughter were given an entire manor to themselves, and didn’t even have the decency to use the entire thing.

But then, she hadn’t been better once upon a time, had she?

Thudding on the stairs that led out of the kitchen brought Sigyn out of her thoughts. She turned to a see a girl close to her age, wearing the customary black dress and white apron and cap for a maid.

“Miss Njordardottir, is it?”

“Yes,” Sigyn said, standing. “And you’re Miss Dagny.”

Dagny smiled. “You’ve made it in one piece, then.”

“Well, the road did try its hardest to make it otherwise,” Sigyn said, watching Dagny carefully.

To her relief, Dagny laughed. “Aye, it does. I hear they have paved streets in cities. I can’t imagine!”

She looked at Sigyn’s bag. “You must be exhausted. It’s a long ride from the nearest lodgings. I’ll take you to your room and let you rest up.”

Dagny looked over to Fulla and her expression cooled considerably. “The little lady isn’t feeling well again. Make her the usual tea.”

_Again?_ Sigyn wondered.

Uncertain what to make of the tension between the cook and the maid, Sigyn merely gripped her bag tighter and followed Dagny up the stairs. The shadows thickened the further up they went until Sigyn put a hand on the bannister to steady herself.

“Oh right,” Dagny said, noticing Sigyn’s hesitation. “We like to save our candles here. It can be hard to get more, out here in the country.”

“You’ve not switched to gas?” Sigyn asked, surprised.

“No,” Dagny said with a small sigh as they came upon a landing. “Maybe one day. The servants’ quarters are on the third floor, and since Fulla sleeps in a cupboard off the kitchen, you’ll have your pick of a bed.”

Sigyn was frankly surprised there were any beds at all, given what she’d seen of Niflheim so far.

Dagny opened a servant’s door and Sigyn dutifully followed her up the passage. The wood creaked loudly underneath their feet, and Sigyn had the briefest mental image of the stairs giving way and both of them falling into darkness.

“The master should be returning soon. He took a short trip into the city. He’ll be staying here permanently for the winter months,” Dagny said, interrupting Sigyn’s thoughts. “He keeps to himself, so you’ll only see him every now and then, unless you’re called to his study to help with the fire.”

Sigyn waited a moment before saying, “And his daughter…?”

“Oh,” Dagny said, waving a hand and smiling slightly. “She’s not any trouble.”

Getting the idea that Dagny wouldn’t elaborate, Sigyn let the subject drop. They came to the third floor and Dagny swung open the door to the bedroom. “We’ll have to share,” Dagny said. “But I don’t snore, and I’m a very heavy sleeper.”

Sigyn managed a smile. Looking over the many beds, Sigyn wondered when the manor last had as many servants. Dirty windows let in grey light. Making her way over to one, Sigyn peered out to the grounds below, seeing more of the same yellow grass and cloudy skies. Near the edge of the property stood a small chapel.

Squinting, Sigyn thought she could see a light shining dimly through the red glass in a window of the chapel. Was there someone inside?

“We take our breakfast after the lord and the little lady,” Dagny was saying, drawing Sigyn’s attention away from the chapel. “No midday, I’m afraid, and our supper is after the rest of the house’s as well. But honestly, it’s not a bad job,” Dagny added quickly. “The master is fair enough, and the work isn’t as bad as it is in other places, I’ve heard.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Sigyn said.

Dagny smiled briefly. “No, I just… wanted you to know. That’s all. Anyway, I’ll leave you to get settled. You should rest up for tomorrow, when you start. Supper is at eight.”

“Thank you.”

As Dagny closed the door behind her, Sigyn looked out the window to the chapel again. The light was gone.

Sigyn stepped away from the window, rubbing her arms against the chill, and chose a bed at random. She waited until Dagny’s footsteps had faded away before setting her bag on her mattress and opening it. She took out the only other dress she owned, then her nightclothes, and her second pair of boots, and set them in the battered trunk that rested at the end of her new bed.

Taking the watch from her pocket again, Sigyn checked the time. She had a few hours until supper. She should rest, as Dagny said.

The emptiness of the room yawned wide. Sigyn bit her lip, wondering just how long she would be working in Niflheim, how many years she would wake up to plain white walls and a thin mattress.

Something else nagged away at the edge of her mind. She tried to ignore it but couldn’t. If the work really was as easy as Dagny said, Sigyn wondered, then why were they so desperate for help? And why was it so empty?

_Leave it alone_ , Sigyn told herself with a sharp shake of her head. _Keep your head down and focus on your work. You have no choice._

Still, she wondered.

* * *

_Papa,_

_I have made it to Niflheim, safe and sound. The people here are pleasant and the work isn’t too strenuous. The countryside is beautiful, with green hills and fields of wildflowers. I think I shall like it here, though I do miss you terribly._

_Please don’t fret over me. I will come back to visit as soon as I can. In my absence, please trust Beyla, as I trust her to watch over you and tend to you. I will write as often as I can. I shall look forward to receiving your letters, if you should write any._

_Your daughter,_

_Sigyn_

* * *

Supper in Niflheim was a quiet affair. Sigyn joined Dagny, Fulla, and Mr. Tyr back in the kitchen at the long dining table, where Fulla served a bland stew and tough bread.

Neither of the older servants said much. Dagny chattered away about most anything that seemed to enter her mind, barely taking a breath long enough for Sigyn to reply. It suited her fine, mostly; she wasn’t really in the mood to talk, but she could listen.

Her gaze flitted over the three servants. Mr. Tyr was apparently also the groundskeeper and game master. Sigyn began to understand why she’d been hired as a between maid—she could see that she’d be expected to take on the duties of other positions much like Dagny and Mr. Tyr had.

“… Anyway, where did you say you were from again?”

Sigyn blinked, realizing Dagny had directed the question at her. She smiled blandly. “I doubt you’ve ever heard of it. Small village, really. I couldn’t get work at the local estate there, so I looked elsewhere.”

“What did you do before that?” Dagny asked.

“Ah…” Sigyn started, then paused when she saw Fulla looking at her hands. A hint of suspicion crossed over the cook’s face.

Sigyn resisted the urge to hide her hands away. She knew what the cook was thinking: Her hands were too smooth. Not as smooth as they’d once been, true, but they also weren’t rough enough for her to claim she’d been working for most of her life.

Seeking to change the subject, Sigyn glanced around the kitchen. “Is this… really all of us?”

Fulla rose an eyebrow. “If there were any other servants, they’d be here with us for supper.”

“But there’s a young girl in the house,” Sigyn said. “Shouldn’t she have a governess, or a nanny? And what of Lord Odinson? Does he not have a butler or valet?”

Fulla and Mr. Tyr exchanged a glance.

“The little lady had a nanny once, yes,” Dagny said. She helped herself to Sigyn’s unfinished piece of bread. “She left about two years ago now, though, and the master hasn’t been able to find anyone else to take the position.”

_Has he tried?_ Sigyn wondered, but knew better than to ask the question out loud.

“I take care of her, mostly,” Dagny said. “She doesn’t really require much work.”

“How old is she?” Sigyn asked.

“Eight.”

Sigyn stared at Dagny. She didn’t quite know what to say. All children required work, and the fact that an eight-year-old girl was left on her own most of the time irritated her. There were no other children around for miles. Was she meant to entertain herself?

A sudden, piercing sound caused Sigyn to jump. Her mind couldn’t at first figure out what she was hearing. It sounded like an animal, but not any that she’d ever heard before.

“Oh, that damned animal,” Fulla said, rubbing her forehead, as the sound faded away.

“What is it?”

Dagny waved a hand, trying for nonchalance, though Sigyn noted a slight shake in her hand. “A wolf, that’s all.”

“Really?” Sigyn stood and went over to one of the windows, peering out into the dark. “I’ve never heard one before. What an amazing sound.”

She realized her mistake a second later when Fulla said, “There are wolves all over the country. How have you not heard one before, if you come from a small village?”

“How lucky you are,” Dagny said before Sigyn could answer, “to live in a part of the country where they don’t roam! It must be relaxing, not having to hear that sound at all times of the day and night.”

“Yes,” Sigyn said, turning away from the dark window. She smiled at the three servants. “I think I’ll turn in. I want to be well rested for my first proper day of work. Goodnight.”

She felt Fulla and Mr. Tyr’s stare on her back as she hurried her way up the stairs.

When Dagny came up to the bedroom a while later, Sigyn pretended to already be asleep, her back to the other girl. She kept her gaze on the window as Dagny prepared for bed. The earlier clouds had broken apart some to allow faint moonlight to filter into the room. A spider’s web in the corner of the window shimmered in the light.

Outside, Sigyn heard the wolf howl again. A light scratching at the walls made her pause, breath quieting, wondering if the manor had mice. Or was it the wind? She hadn’t seen any trees close to the manor earlier, but she hadn’t seen much of the outside, either…

No matter, Sigyn told herself. All houses had their own noises, their own songs. She simply needed to get used to this one.

* * *

The day dawned cold and dreary, the clouds having moved back in sometime during the night. As Sigyn followed Dagny through the house, her arms straining with two heavy buckets of water, she was almost glad for it. She grew warmer each time she had to climb the stairs up to the bathroom with the buckets, so the chill no longer bothered her as much.

Dagny, it turned out, was a morning person, specifically a morning person who enjoyed to talk as soon as she arose. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to require any response from Sigyn, who had never been a morning person.

As they filled the bathtub, Sigyn only half-listening to Dagny, she wondered when she would have a chance to find the local post office. She wanted to send her letter to her father as soon as possible.

“That should do it,” Dagny said, wiping the sweat from her brow. She beamed at Sigyn. “Why don’t you go down and have breakfast now? I’ll join you in a bit and then we can get started on the rest of the house.”

“You don’t need help with Lady Lokadottir?” Sigyn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Dagny said quickly. “No, we’ll be fine. Go on.”

Rather than argue, Sigyn nodded and left. Dagny had been careful not to let Sigyn see the little lady of the house, as Dagny called her. Any time the child was brought up, in fact, Dagny was quick to change the subject. Was she worried that Sigyn would try to take her place as the head maid? She hadn’t struck Sigyn as the territorial sort, but one never knew.

Instead of joining the silently judgmental Fulla for a proper sit-down breakfast, Sigyn merely took a roll and ventured outdoors. There would be fewer chances to be outdoors as the days went on. She’d have to enjoy it while she could.

The grass crunched under her boots as Sigyn made her way further from the house. She turned to peer up at the window she’d seen the day before, where she’d caught sight of a child—the Lady Lokadottir, she assumed. It was empty and dark now.

Pulling the pocket watch out, Sigyn checked the time. Surely she had a while to herself. Enough time to look at the gardens, perhaps.

Breaking apart her dry roll—it desperately needed butter or honey—Sigyn left pieces behind her for any birds that might be around. The gardens were mostly hidden behind high walls made of dead shrubbery and a few trees. It might have been lovely once, but from the state of its overgrowth, Sigyn could tell it hadn’t been properly tended to in a while.

Memories of her time tending her own garden brought her a smile. Sigyn’s fingers itched to clear away the dead brush and get the garden ready for next year’s spring.

But she was only a between maid, not the gardener, and there would be no time for gardening in her future for a long while.

“Look out!”

The high voice made Sigyn jump, but as she turned to see where it’d come from, something slammed into her. The air rushed out of her lungs as she landed on the hard ground, pain exploding through her back. A large grey and white beast bared its fangs and went for her hand.

Sigyn did not scream or faint. Mostly because her mind was still trying to catch up with what was happening. It wasn’t until she felt the beast’s tongue at her fingers that she snapped her hand back and tried to scurry out from under it.

“Fenrir, no! Bad!”

As Sigyn managed to sit up, the beast backed away from her, nose to the ground as it devoured the remains of her roll. She blinked, breath coming fast. She could see now that it was a dog, of some kind – certainly not any kind of dog she’d ever seen before. If she were standing, she was certain it would come up to her waist, at the very least.

Having finished her roll, the dog looked at her with bright yellow eyes, clearly wondering where she was hiding more food.

“I don’t have anything else,” Sigyn said, showing her empty hands.

Just to be sure, the dog sniffed at them, licked both once, then ran from her with its tail in the air. It joined the side of a young girl who was slowly making her way towards Sigyn.

“I’m sorry,” the girl said. “Fenrir has very bad manners.”

“Oh, it’s… it’s fine,” Sigyn said, rising to her feet. She recognized the girl. It was the same one she’d seen in the window before.

She was small for her age, with long black hair that was loose and wild around her shoulders, and the kind of grey eyes that would change to green or blue in certain lights. Her skin was pale, as she clearly didn’t get much sun so far North. A strange green necklace hung around her shoulders, and the hem of her dress had dirt from the garden.

But what Sigyn hadn’t been able to see from the brief glimpse she’d had before was that the entire left side of the girl’s face didn’t move. Her eyelid was partially closed, and the corner of her mouth bent down slightly. She had to lift her left leg with the right side of her body as leverage and her left arm didn’t appear to work, either.

Suddenly, Dagny’s reluctance to let Sigyn ever meet the daughter of the manor made sense, even as it incensed Sigyn.

Kneeling down to be at eye level with the girl, Sigyn said, “Although I am a little cross with—Fenrir, was it?” At the girl’s worried nod, Sigyn grinned and continued. “I’m cross with him for stealing my breakfast.”

The girl pinned Fenrir with a severe look. “As I said, bad manners. Mrs. Fulla would say it’s because he’s half-wolf.”

Sigyn blinked at the dog. She could see it now, in the slightly angular features of his face and the muscular build of his body. It occurred to her that she should be slightly more shaken at being tackled by a half-wolf than she currently was.

“I suppose you’re the one I heard howling yesterday, then?” Sigyn asked, holding out a hand for Fenrir to sniff, though they were quite past the introduction stage. “What a lovely voice you have.”

Fenrir put a paw as large as Sigyn’s hand in her palm, tongue lolling.

“Say you’re sorry, Fenrir,” the girl said, “or else I won’t get you a treat later.”

As if he understood her, Fenrir’s ears went back and he laid down on the ground at Sigyn’s feet, whining pitifully. Sigyn laughed, charmed, and shook her head.

“You can hardly blame a dog for acting like a dog,” Sigyn said, scratching Fenrir’s ear. “And such a big dog at that, it’s no surprise he went after my food. He must eat quite a lot.”

The girl nodded. She was watching Sigyn carefully. “He does,” she said. “Mrs. Fulla always complains about it.”

“Well,” Sigyn said, “we’ll just ignore her, won’t we? We all have needs.”

“You’re new here,” the girl said. “I saw you outside yesterday. The new maid.”

“I am,” Sigyn said, belatedly remembering her place. She curtseyed to the girl and kept her head down after she rose out of it. “Sigyn Njordardottir, miss.”

The girl wrinkled one side of her nose. “I’m Hela.”

“The lady of the manor.”

“No,” Hela said. “That was my mother. She’s not here now.”

Sigyn, taken aback, could only say, “Oh.”

Hela patted Fenrir’s head. She had to reach up to do it, as the dog was taller than she was, even sitting down. “This is Fenrir,” she said, tone serious. Her right hand went up to the green necklace. “And this is Jormungand, but we call him Jor.”

She lifted the head of a snake out of her hair so it could peer at Sigyn with its green eyes. Sigyn stared. What she had mistaken for a necklace was, in fact, a large, green snake, its scales iridescent and its middle bulging from what was obviously a good breakfast.

“They’re my brothers,” Hela added brightly.

Carefully, Sigyn studied Jor’s head. She’d read somewhere once that the difference between a venomous snake and a non-venomous one could be seen in the heads. Non-venomous snakes had rounder heads and features, and their mouths lacked the vicious fangs needed to inject venom.

Jor very clearly had fangs, and his head was all sharp, hard angles.

_Venomous, then,_ Sigyn thought. He seemed perfectly content on Hela’s small shoulders, though.

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” Sigyn said, just as seriously as Hela had been moments earlier. She rose an eyebrow at Hela. “Shouldn’t you be having a bath right now, miss?”

Hela made a face. “I don’t want to,” she said. She tucked Jor’s head back underneath her hair. “Miss Dagny is a bore. Do you have any brothers, Miss Sigyn?”

Taking the change of subject in stride, Sigyn nodded. “One. His name is Freyr. I have a sister, too. Freyja.”

“I’ve always wanted a sister!” Hela said. “You are very lucky.”

Sigyn smiled. She was lucky, in so many ways she couldn’t tell Hela. And even if she could, now was not the time nor the place. She put her hands on her hips, attempting to look like she was in charge.

“And you’re very lucky to be getting a bath right now,” Sigyn said. “Come along, or else all of Miss Dagny’s hard work will have been for nothing. You don’t want to make her heat the water all over again, do you?”

Hela frowned, obviously having never thought of it that way. Sigyn wasn’t surprised. She wouldn’t have been taught how to consider the feelings of a servant.

“I suppose not,” Hela mumbled. “But Miss Dagny doesn’t like me, or Fenrir, or Jor. She always hurries to get away from me.”

Sigyn hadn’t seen Dagny interact with Hela, so she couldn’t say for sure whether the maid disliked the girl. Given the way Dagny acted whenever Hela was brought up, though, she could easily believe Dagny was at least unnerved by her.

“It could be that, since she was the only maid here until yesterday, Miss Dagny was always very busy,” Sigyn said gently. “I don’t know how anyone couldn’t like you.”

The look on Hela’s face broke Sigyn’s heart. Genuine surprise etched every feature on her right side, while her left remained frozen. Footsteps coming up fast on them caused Sigyn to turn around. Dagny’s cap threatened to fly away from her head as she ran towards them.

“Lady Hela! You’re not supposed to be outside,” Dagny said. When she reached them, she paused to catch her breath. “You gave me a fright, wandering out of the house. And you,” she added, looking at Sigyn, “you’re supposed to be inside, too.”

It rankled Sigyn to be chastised like a child, but in the hierarchy of the house, Dagny was above her. So she merely bowed her head.

“My apologies, Miss Dagny.”

“Don’t be cross,” Hela said. “I don’t need a bath.”

“Yes, you do,” Dagny sighed, exhaustion slumping her shoulders.

“Did you know,” Sigyn said to Hela, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “that if you leave dirt between your toes for too long, things will grow in it? Like fungus.”

Hela’s face lit up with glee. “Really? I want fungus!”

Sigyn laughed, just barely managing to turn it into a cough. In hindsight, when she’d been told the same thing as a child, she’d reacted the exact same way as Hela. She’d assumed the girl would be like other children and find it disgusting.

Perhaps she should have known better, considering Hela carried around a venomous snake on her shoulders.

Sighing again, unable to hide her irritation, Dagny took Hela’s hand. “Come on,” she said. “The sooner we get to it, the sooner it’ll be over.”

Hela dug her feet into the ground and turned back to Sigyn. “Will you come see me again? Soon?”

Sigyn hesitated. She couldn’t exactly say no to Hela’s request, but neither could she say yes. She was a maid, not a governess or nanny, and Dagny seemed to prefer to keep Sigyn away from the child. She would be overstepping her bounds if she agreed; she would be disobeying the lady of the house if she said no.

To her surprise, Dagny came to her rescue. “Miss Sigyn will be very busy,” she said. “But… but if she has time, I’m sure she’ll come to see you.”

Hela gave Dagny a suspicious glance, then directed it to Sigyn. “Do you promise?”

_Oh, no,_ Sigyn thought. Of all the things to say, Hela had to ask for a promise. Sigyn never went back on her promises.

Seeing no way out, she said, “Yes, I promise. Now please, go take your bath, before the water gets cold.”

Finally mollified, Hela went with Dagny, Fenrir following closely at her heels. Sigyn watched them both until they went inside the house, listening to the wind blowing through the branches of trees, and wondered.

Later that night, exhausted from the day’s work, Sigyn stretched out on her thin mattress, wincing. Her muscles would ache in the morning, for certain. As she was braiding her hair, Dagny stepped into the room. She took her cap down with a sigh.

Uncertain, Sigyn didn’t meet her gaze at first. There hadn’t been much chance to talk after what happened with Hela. Dagny had been quiet, merely giving Sigyn her orders, so she was certain Dagny was angry with her. How to bridge that now?

“I’m sorry.”

Sigyn looked up in surprise. “I—for what?”

“For acting cross with you, about the little miss,” Dagny said. She took off her dress and draped it over the end of her bed. “The master… he doesn’t like for people to see Lady Hela. Whenever anyone new is hired, they’re told not to bother her too much. I think—” Dagny stopped, pursing her lips. She unpinned her blonde hair and began brushing it out in front of the dull mirror.

“What?” Sigyn asked, softly.

Sighing, Dagny shook her head. “I shouldn’t say.”

Sigyn tied off the end of her braid and turned on her bed so she was fully facing Dagny. “I won’t tell, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said. “I won’t get you into trouble.”

Dagny met her gaze in the mirror. For a long moment, neither woman said anything. Their shadows jumped on the walls from the flickering candlelight. The trees scratched at the walls again, and Sigyn wondered, briefly, how thin they might be.

Finally, Dagny set her brush down and got into her bed, pulling the thin blanket up over her legs. “I think the master’s ashamed of his daughter. She was born like that,” Dagny said, waving a hand over the left side of her face. “Mrs. Fulla says she had awful seizures as a baby, and each time, the paralysis on her left side got worse and worse. She hasn’t had any in a while, but when she does, they’re awful.”

“She needs someone to look after her, properly,” Sigyn said. “She’s _eight_ , and where’s her father? Gallivanting off to the city all the time and leaving her behind? No wonder she says a half-wolf and a snake are her brothers.”

Dagny stared. Realizing how heated her voice had become, and how angry her expression, Sigyn reeled herself in. It hurt, though. She knew what it was like to be lonely as a child, to have only one’s imagination to fill the days. At least, after a time, she had her father and her siblings. Who did Hela have? An empty house and a handful of servants who’d been told not to be around her too much.

“Well,” Dagny said slowly, “Lord Odinson can’t really help being gone all the time.”

“Maybe,” Sigyn said. “But he can help whether or not his daughter is lonely.”

Laughing uneasily, Dagny shook her head. “Anyway, we should get some sleep. Another long day tomorrow, and the master is due back soon. We’ll need to get his study ready for him.”

Sigyn wasn’t feeling particularly inclined to get anything ready for Lord Odinson, but she nodded. They both blew out their candles, throwing the room into darkness. Outside, she heard Fenrir’s howl once more, and drifted off to thoughts about the lonely girl residing in Niflheim Manor.


	2. The Lord of Niflheim Manor

The scratching had gotten louder.

Sigyn lay awake, staring at the dark ceiling, listening. The sound had started off faint, easy to ignore. Now it seemed to fill her ears, inescapable.

In her own bed, Dagny slept away. Evidently she hadn’t been lying when she said she was a heavy sleeper. Or else she was so used to the sound that it didn’t bother her anymore.

Silence broke through the room, but Sigyn didn’t allow her hopes to rise. It would happen every now and then, the scratching coming to a sudden stop, only to begin again a few minutes later. That alone would cause her to think it was a rat or mice, but…

It was simply too _loud_. It was too constant.

A minute later, the scratching began again. Sigyn bit back an irritated groan and sat up. Her hands fumbled around her small bedside table until she found her nearly melted candle and matches. She lit the candle, made sure she hadn’t woken Dagny, then tiptoed out into the passage.

The stairs creaked beneath her as Sigyn made her way down to the kitchen. With only a small candle, the shadows were deep, almost as if they were tangible things she could touch and feel. She hurried the rest of the way as fast as she dared to without waking anyone.

Sigyn would have dearly loved a cup of tea or a biscuit, but Fulla likely kept a tight stock of everything in her kitchen, so it was best not to risk it. The blends they had in Niflheim weren’t good enough to risk a potential subtraction in her already meager salary, anyway.

At least she was finally away from that damned scratching sound.

With a sigh, Sigyn sat on the bench and rested her head and arms on the table. Maybe she could just sleep down here. It was about as comfortable as her bed upstairs.

She had, in fact, started to drift off when something jerked her awake. Sitting bolt upright, heart pounding in her throat, Sigyn looked around the kitchen. Nothing but shadows greeted her. Her candle was flickering hard in some breeze that Sigyn couldn’t feel.

What had woken her? Something must have. She didn’t wake in time to catch it, so she was only left with a trembling in her fingers and a sense that something wasn’t quite _right_. But Sigyn couldn’t see anything in the darkness.

Just as she was about to convince herself it was nothing, Sigyn heard it: A low, faint moan.

Heart in her throat, Sigyn stood and held her candle aloft, as if that would shine its meager light brighter in the room. She did her best to quiet her breathing. The sound had been so quiet, and her heartbeat was pulsing in her ears—

The sound came again, closer this time, but not, Sigyn thought, in the kitchen. It was somewhere else in the house.

Sigyn hesitated at the bottom of the steps. A part of her knew she should leave it alone, whatever _it_ may be. She’d read enough novels to know that women wandering around dark manors at night tended to end up dead, or mad, or worse.

But then, those novels had been written by people with limited views of what women were or could be.

Sigyn heard the moan again. It sounded so _pained_.

That decided her. Lifting the hem of her nightdress, Sigyn went up the stairs as quickly as she dared without waking the entire manor. Instead of turning to the servant’s passage, she stepped out into a wide corridor. The curtains were drawn, so the only light she had to see by was her little candle. It did not feel like enough.

The wallpaper, which maybe had once been gold, had faded to a pale, bland yellow. It looked white in her firelight. The rug that ran the length of the corridor was thin in spots, and the dark red of it looked black in the nighttime. Sigyn mentally went over the description Dagny had given her of the Manor: She was on the second floor, where the family kept their chambers. Most of the rooms were locked up; Dagny was the only one with the keys.

So if whatever she heard was behind one of the locked doors, Sigyn had no way to get to them.

_Thud._

Sigyn jumped, her entire body freezing, tensing. There was something at the end of the corridor. Something had made that thud.

_Thud._

Again. And again, that whispery moan, that almost sounded like someone crying. Echoing down the corridor.

Sigyn stepped forward and found her voice. “Hello?” she said, so quietly she almost didn’t hear herself. “If you’re hurt, I can… I can try to help. I don’t know if I can, but I’ll _try._ ”

Silence was her only response. Something shifted in the air, and Sigyn felt the subtle weight of regard lift from her shoulders. Whatever it was, it was no longer paying her any mind. The air was still heavy, but not with attention.

Sigyn waited a moment, then another, and finally came to the conclusion that whoever—or whatever—had been making the sounds was gone. Shoulders slumping with a sigh, Sigyn turned to return to her own room, only to stop when she heard a new sound, something like a quiet whispering.

She strained to hear and realized it was whispering. Someone was whispering behind a door to her right.

For some reason she couldn’t quite put to words, Sigyn glanced down the hallway both ways, as if she expected Fulla or Dagny to come across her in the middle of the night in a place where she shouldn’t be. Never mind strange, unseen things that lurked in shadows: She knew she should be more worried about her fellow servants.

After making certain she was alone, Sigyn stepped towards the door she could hear the whispering coming from. She couldn’t make out the words. Faint light shined in the crack between the door and the floor.

With another momentary hesitation, Sigyn tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. She pushed it open just a sliver, enough for her to peer inside, uncertain as to what she would find.

A loud bark split through the silence and Sigyn sprang back from the door, her hand pressed to her mouth, barely muffling her shriek. The door opened fully, illuminating the corridor with the same faint light Sigyn had seen underneath the door, and Fenrir bounded out towards Sigyn. He immediately sniffed at her hands, fully expecting her to have food for him.

Her heart still pounding hard enough to burst out of her chest, Sigyn still managed a shaky laugh. “Ridiculous beast,” she said to Fenrir. Movement by the door caught her attention again.

Hela peered at Sigyn from the doorway. The flickering firelight behind her cast her face in shadows, obscuring her expression.

“Oh,” Sigyn said, feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment. Of course an actual person had been in that room. Mortified at her own silliness, Sigyn tried to move past it. What had she been expecting?

“Forgive me, miss. I should have knocked.”

Hela opened the door wider to let Fenrir, who had come to the disappointing realization that Sigyn had no food to give him, back into the room.

“You heard it?” Hela asked.

“I…” Sigyn glanced over her shoulder, where the end of the corridor was shrouded in shadows.

“You did,” Hela said simply. “Miss Dagny and the others can’t. Or won’t. Mother says sometimes people close their ears to things that scare them. I’ve tried closing my ears, but it doesn’t work.”

Again, Sigyn felt a hint of attention on the back of her neck, the weight of some unseen thing’s regard. Hela leaned against the doorframe, supporting her paralyzed side. Realizing she was keeping the child out of bed, and knowing she was overstepping her bounds and not caring, Sigyn gently ushered Hela back into her bedroom. She made certain to close the door behind them.

Coals still burned in the fireplace; Jor was curled up on a pillow in front of it. Fenrir laid down beside the snake with a heavy sigh.

The chill in Hela’s room wasn’t as bad as it was elsewhere in the manor. A pile of books rested on the floor near a window seat; a trunk full of dolls sat beside a large dollhouse. Unlike the rug out in the corridor, the one beside Hela’s bed was thick and in good condition. Her canopy bed was large, bigger than a child her age really needed, and the pillows were fluffy and the blankets warm. After a moment, Sigyn realized the bed was lower to the floor than most, and that the poles of the canopy had handles. She watched as Hela lifted herself into her bed with a practiced ease.

She had never seen such a thing before, nor heard of it. Sigyn touched one of the handles and wondered if Hela’s father had come up with the idea. It was clearly built to allow Hela in and out of bed without the need for someone to help her.

Lord Odinson clearly didn’t care about the rest of the manor, but he spared no expense for his daughter. Sigyn tried not to let that fact lessen her irritation with him. Likely he only spent so much money on her because he felt guilty for hiding her away.

“Your mother sounds like a wise woman,” Sigyn said. “But sometimes we can do all we can and things still happen.”

She paused. “You said it was a ‘her’… have you seen what made that noise, Hela?”

Hela only nodded.

“I see,” Sigyn said. “I’m sure it was scary, seeing something no one else sees. But I believe you.”

The girl blinked at Sigyn, surprised, then looked away. “That one doesn’t scare me,” Hela said. “She’s just sad.”

Taken aback, it took Sigyn a moment to find her words. “That one?” she repeated.

“There are more,” Hela said. “Lots.”

 _Of course there are,_ Sigyn thought with a sense of weary detachment. It wasn’t enough for the Manor to simply _look_ old and haunted; it had to be truly haunted as well. She supposed it was only natural. The Manor was very old and had seen countless families inside its walls.

Sigyn realized she’d been silent too long when she caught Hela staring at her with an annoyed expression.

“Don’t say there aren’t,” Hela said. “Mrs. Fulla says that all the time. She’s wrong.”

“I wasn’t,” Sigyn said calmly. “I said I believed you, didn’t I? I don’t lie.”

Well, not without a good reason, anyway.

“Do any of them hurt you?” Sigyn asked.

Hela slowly shook her head. “I think the one downstairs wants to.”

Heart aching for the poor girl, Sigyn tucked her blankets in tighter. “He had best think twice about it,” she said, “or else he’ll have me to deal with.”

That startled a small smile out of Hela. Sigyn returned her smile with one of her own and then, remembering her place, stood up from the bed and nodded briskly.

“Right,” Sigyn said, “back to sleep. No more talk of ghosts tonight.”

Hela reached out for her hand and gripped it tight. “Will you stay? Until I fall asleep?”

Sigyn hesitated. It really wasn’t her place, but how could she be expected to leave a scared child alone? Especially one who seemed to be mostly ignored by the rest of the staff? If someone became angry with Sigyn for staying, she would simply deal with it later.

“All right,” Sigyn said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Hela smiled and closed her eyes, and soon her breathing evened out and her body became heavy with sleep. Sigyn carefully extracted herself from Hela’s grip. The girl slept on soundly, even as the floor creaked beneath Sigyn’s feet. Sigyn stepped out into the corridor and shut the door as softly as she could.

She glanced down the hallway to the heavy shadows that hung at the end. The darkness felt empty for now. Still, Sigyn went down to the kitchen and silently grabbed a handful of salt. After making certain she hadn’t woken Fulla, she went back up the stairs and to the door to Hela’s room. She spread the salt in front of the door, making certain to leave a solid, thick line of the mineral.

It was very basic protection and wouldn’t stop a ghost from getting into the room another way. For now, it was all Sigyn could do.

Shivering with the cold, Sigyn retreated back to her own bed, though sleep was hard to come by.

For the time, at least, the scratching had stopped.

* * *

The next day was a struggle. Because she’d gotten so little sleep the night before, Sigyn was exhausted to the point that walking felt like lifting her legs through sludge. She kept dropping things and mixed a cleaning solution improperly.

It was not a great day of work, all things considered.

“You’re a right mess today,” Dagny said, not unsympathetically.

“I know,” Sigyn said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Homesick?” Dagny guessed.

“No,” Sigyn said, though she did miss home terribly. It wasn’t something she necessarily wanted to discuss with Dagny. “This scratching noise kept me up.”

She watched Dagny’s reaction carefully. The other maid averted her eyes and focused on beating the dust out of some curtains. She only replied when the dust settled.

“Yes, there can be mice in the walls,” Dagny said. “It’s so cold up here in this part of the country that they flood any warm house they can find. We need a few good cats, I think.”

Sigyn made a noncommittal sound and turned back to her own curtains that she was working on. It was clear Dagny didn’t want to discuss what the scratching might really be. It wasn’t something Sigyn understood easily – why not call a thing what it was instead of pretending you could turn it into something else if you just ignored it? Better to face things head on instead of turning away and hoping it doesn’t affect you.

Or perhaps Dagny was a more modern thinker and didn’t believe in ghosts. Sigyn privately smiled to herself; she had lived in a city and yet believed in old lore, while Dagny had clearly lived in the country all of her life and yet might not necessarily buy into superstition.

“I think we’ve got all the dust we can get out of them for now,” Dagny said with a sigh. Sigyn gratefully dropped her broom and rubbed her arms, which felt both sore and weightless after such a thorough work out. “You should get to work on the master’s study. I’ll take care of his chambers. We’re expecting him back any day now.”

They went their separate ways, with Dagny ascending to the first floor while Sigyn descended to the ground floor. In spite of her irritation, she found herself curious to see Lord Odinson’s library. Throughout the rest of the house, there didn’t seem to be any of his presence; the interior had clearly not been updated since he’d moved into the Manor, and there were no personal effects that Sigyn had yet to find. Portraits hung on the walls of family members long since deceased: The last one Sigyn estimated to have been painted around a hundred years before, given the fashion of the woman and man in the painting.

Would Lord Odinson’s study shed some light on her mysterious employer?

And why did she want it to?

So lost in her own thoughts, Sigyn didn’t immediately hear the footsteps. She quickly returned to the present and jumped when a small hand grabbed her wrist.

“Miss Sigyn!” Hela smiled lopsidedly up at her.

Sigyn took a deep breath. “This is the second time you’ve startled me in a day, my lady,” she said, trying and failing for a stern tone.

“It’s not my fault you opened my door and Fenrir scared you,” Hela said, lifting her chin in a way that was incongruous with her age. Sigyn wondered if it was a habit picked up from her mother. “Can we go to the gardens?”

“I can’t,” Sigyn said. “I have to clean your father’s study.”

Hela made a face. “But that’s boring,” she said, and Sigyn couldn’t exactly disagree with her assessment. “And Papa won’t be back for a really long time. Please?”

Absently, Sigyn wondered if she’d used to put her own maids into such precarious positions without realizing it. If Sigyn went out to the gardens, she’d be neglecting her duties. But if she said no to Hela, she’d also be neglecting her duty to obey the family of the house. And with her father gone, Hela was the one Sigyn had to listen to.

The house creaked around them, shifting, and Sigyn wondered what it must be like to be Hela. Left alone in a manor with only a handful of servants, pets, and no one else. Even if there were anyone of her age around—which Sigyn doubted—she wasn’t sure Hela’s father would allow her playdates.

Sigyn bit her lip, then sighed. “All right,” she relented, trying not to smile at how Hela’s face lit up with joy. “But only for a half hour. I have other duties to see to, as well.”

That stipulation didn’t lessen Hela’s happiness in the least. Excitedly, she grabbed Sigyn’s hand and began pulling her towards the front hall of the Manor, with more strength than Sigyn had thought she would have. She felt a ridiculous jolt of anxiety as they went through the front entrance. A maid of her position shouldn’t be seen going in and out the front door of the household in which she worked. Only Dagny would have been allowed, in order to clean the steps.

Sigyn quickly realized what an inane thought that was. There was no one around for miles. Who was there to see her? If Fulla found out, Sigyn was sure she’d be given a warning, but she also suspected that they were so desperate for another maid that she wouldn’t be let go.

 _Still, I should do my best not to get caught,_ Sigyn thought.

Hela had been babbling away while Sigyn nursed her own worries. The day was cold, with both of their breaths coming out in a fog. Grey clouds hung heavily in the sky. The air lacked the sharp bite that hinted at snow, which Sigyn was grateful for, even as she still shivered. She regretted promising Hela a half hour outside.

Hela wore a coat and boots, a long green scarf wound around her neck. Clearly she had been planning on going outside one way or the other. Sigyn wondered if Hela had intentionally sought her out, or happened to see her and jump on the chance to be around her. Either option made Sigyn smile to herself.

Fenrir greeted Hela with a bark when they entered the gardens. While Hela found a stick to throw for Fenrir, Sigyn glanced around. How utterly dismal the neglected garden was, especially for a young girl to have to spend time in. If Niflheim had a lady of the house, Hela’s mother, or even a female relative of Lord Odinson’s, the gardens would have been her domain. She would have overseen what grew where, and in the spring and summer months, gatherings would have been held in the garden so that guests could admire her taste.

The gardens had been Sigyn’s domain, once. She wondered who now took care of the plants she’d once tended to so diligently, the ones she’d planted herself and watched sprout and grow year after year.

“Miss Sigyn?”

Drawn out of her thoughts, Sigyn refocused on Hela. Inwardly she cursed herself. She had always been given to disappearing into her own thoughts, but she couldn’t do that anymore. She was a maid, and more, she needed to look after Hela now.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Sigyn said. “I’m being dreadful company, aren’t I?”

Hela titled her head to the side. “You looked sad,” she said. “Are you sad? Don’t be, please. I don’t want you to be sad.”

“Oh,” Sigyn said, taken aback by Hela’s worry for a person she’d just met. “No, I’m… I’m not sad, my lady. I was only thinking.”

“Well, stop!” Hela said.

Sigyn bit her tongue to keep from laughing. If only things were that simple. She watched as Fenrir brought the stick back to Hela, who threw it again for him. It didn’t travel far but that didn’t seem to matter to the dog, who bounded after it each time with his tail high and ears pricked forward with interest.

A thought occurred to Sigyn. “Your bedchamber is on the first floor.”

She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until she saw Hela giving her a strange look. Sigyn shook her head. “I’m sorry, that was… I mean to say, how did you get down the stairs, my lady?” Dagny hadn’t helped her. They had been together all morning after Dagny had given Hela her breakfast.

“Papa had an ellyvator built,” Hela said simply.

Sigyn mulled over that information in silence. A cold nose pressed against her hand and she saw that Fenrir had brought the stick back to her, waiting patiently for her to notice and throw it for him.

“Fenrir likes you,” Hela said with a broad smile.

“Does he?” Sigyn asked as she picked up the stick. Fenrir got to his feet, tail wagging, his body tense with anticipation. “I think he only hopes that I’ll have food for him whenever he sees me,” Sigyn said, her tone joking. She threw the stick and Fenrir shot off.

“Have you ever had a dog?” Hela asked, watching Fenrir.

“No,” Sigyn said. “I had a cat. His name was Regis.”

Hela wrinkled her nose. “Funny name for a cat.”

Sigyn laughed. “I suppose it was.”

“Did he die?”

Surprised, Sigyn glanced at Hela. “No,” she said, after a pause. “I suppose I gave off that impression, didn’t I? No. I had to leave him behind when I came here. He lives with my sister now. Freyja.”

Hela frowned, one corner of her mouth turning down. “Why did you have to leave him? That probably made him sad.”

Swallowing thickly, Sigyn turned away from Hela and looked around for Fenrir. She couldn’t explain what had happened. Not to anyone, never mind Hela.

“It would have been rude of me to bring a cat to my new place of employment,” Sigyn said instead, keeping her voice steady. “Servants aren’t meant to keep pets.”

“That’s stupid.”

That coaxed a laugh out of Sigyn. She wished she could see the world the way Hela did. For laugh trailed away as she realized she hadn’t seen Fenrir for a few minutes. She hadn’t thrown the stick _that_ far.

“Fenrir?” Sigyn asked, looking around the gardens.

Sudden barking made her turn and reach for Hela. Fenrir sounded—anxious? Panicked? His barks echoed through the air from somewhere beyond the gardens, and underneath it, she could hear the rustle of dead grass. Something was coming.

Before Sigyn could say anything, Hela gasped and moved past her. Sigyn took hold of her arms and held her still. “Wait. We don’t know—”

“I do know!” Hela said indignantly, pulling out of Sigyn’s grasp.

“Hela.”

On the path that lead out of the gardens and away from Niflheim stood a man. Sigyn’s breath caught in her throat. The man was tall, with pale skin and black hair pushed away from his face, not at all the current fashion for men his age. His eyes were a bright green, a color Sigyn hadn’t seen anyone else ever have before. Fenrir circled his feet, tail wagging so hard that his back end went back and forth as well, his ears down in excitement. Dirt and dust from the road painted the ends of his coat.

And he looked at her with such an expression of rage that Sigyn’s spine immediately stiffened and she rose her chin, meeting his gaze straight on, forgetting her place entirely.

“Papa!” Hela hurried over to him, nearly tripping in her haste, and the man looked away from Sigyn to his daughter.

 _So,_ Sigyn thought, _this is Loki Odinson._

Lord Odinson knelt down to catch Hela about the waist and lift her up, settling her on his side. Together, Sigyn could see a passing resemblance between the two of them, but Hela must have taken more after her mother. Hela shared her father's coloring, and perhaps the shape of his eyes, but not much else.

“Hela,” Lord Odinson said, his voice quiet but firm, “you shouldn’t be outside.”

Lord Odinson’s gaze cut to Sigyn again, but Hela didn’t notice.

“I wanted to be outside,” Hela said. “I wanted to show Miss Sigyn the gardens, and Fenrir wanted to play fetch, and I was _bored_.”

“Miss Sigyn, hm?” Lord Odinson approached her then, and Sigyn held her ground. He peered down at her with an unreadable expression.

Belatedly, Sigyn remembered her place. She sank into a hasty curtsy, though she didn’t feel like showing deference to the man before her. “Your Grace.”

“The new maid.” It wasn’t a question, so Sigyn didn’t bother answering it. “Were you not made aware of the rules when you arrived here? Lady Hela is not to go outside without Miss Dagny’s supervision.”

Keeping her head bowed, Sigyn said, “I was aware, Your Grace.”

“So you chose to ignore them, then.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. Sigyn rose her head and met the duke’s gaze again. “I wasn’t going to refuse the lady of the house, Your Grace, and Miss Dagny was busy.”

His brow furrowed, possibly at her impertinence for daring to raise out of her curtsy without his permission. “I do not know how the household you worked for previously went about their business, but I expect all my servants to follow the rules. Lady Hela’s health is delicate. I will not allow you to endanger her.”

“Papa,” Hela whined.

“And boredom isn’t a hazard? Loneliness? She has no friends, no one else to speak with, and all she wanted was a few minutes outside when the sun isn’t even shining. I was hardly going to deny her that.” Sigyn paused as horror flooded through her, then, too late, added, “Your Grace.”

A tense silence fell between them before Hela broke it. “Papa, don’t be mad. Please? I like Miss Sigyn, and I wanted to come outside. I’m fine, really, I am.”

Sigyn took a step back and with great difficulty bowed her head again. _You need this job,_ she told herself. _You need the money. For once in your life, do not ruin this for yourself._

She could feel Lord Odinson's eyes on her. His regard was as palpable as the spirit’s had been the night before. Then he stepped around her, and Sigyn could breathe again.

“Return to your duties,” was all he said before he dismissed her entirely from his attention. He patted his thigh to signal Fenrir to follow him, which the dog did all too happily. Together, father and daughter returned to the dark interior of the manor, and Sigyn was left standing in the gardens, hands shaking not from fear, but anger.


	3. Unexpected Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote Sigyn writes down is from Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte.

“ _There_ you are!”

As soon as Sigyn stepped back inside the manor, Dagny found her. The other maid grabbed her arm and began pulling her out of the kitchen.

“Lord Odinson has returned early,” Dagny said, her voice harried. Her cap was askew and strands of her blonde hair had escaped her bun. “Oh, I hate it when he does this! He never announces when he’s to return, so it’s always a surprise.”

Sigyn thought of how other households would have the entire staff stand out in front of the entrance for hours, solely to wait for their lords and ladies. In her anger, Sigyn hadn’t noticed that Lord Odinson hadn’t sent word ahead and had his servants wait for him to welcome him home. While she certainly wasn’t upset to have missed out on waiting for hours for his arrival, she also didn’t know what to make of it.

 _Why should I have to make anything of it?_ Sigyn thought, annoyed with herself. _Keep your head down._ _Do your job, if you still have one after how you acted towards Lord Odinson._

“His study will have to wait until later,” Dagny was saying, and Sigyn forced herself to pay attention. “After he sees to the little lady, he’ll want a bath and a meal. I’ll see to his bedchamber if you’ll see to his meal with Mrs. Fulla.”

“Very well.”

If Dagny heard the stiffness in Sigyn’s tone, she didn’t acknowledge it. She made to hurry away but stopped when Sigyn took hold of her hand.

“Here, your cap.” Quickly, Sigyn set it to rights, and brushed the few strands of hair out of Dagny’s face as well. She decided to ignore the faint blush she saw on Dagny’s cheeks.

“Thank you,” Dagny said, taking Sigyn’s hands and giving them a squeeze. “I’m so glad you came here, Sigyn.”

Surprised, Sigyn could only watch in silence as Dagny ran off. “See to Lord Odinson’s study while he eats,” Dagny called out over her shoulder before turning a corner and disappearing from view.

All too eager to lose herself in the routine of work, Sigyn threw herself into it. She couldn’t pay attention to her anger when so many other things needed to be done. Despite Fulla’s obvious displeasure at having Sigyn in the kitchen, she allowed Sigyn to help, and soon Lord Odinson’s meal was ready. Sigyn noted with some irritation that Fulla put more effort into his food than she did the servants’.

Just as Sigyn was about to ascend the stairs out of the kitchen, Dagny appeared in the doorway.

“Oh, good, it’s ready,” she sighed. She met Sigyn halfway on the staircase and took the serving tray from her. “I’ll see to this. You go get his study warmed up. I swear, he spends days out on the road, but it’s back to work as soon as he returns…”

“No rest for the wicked, hm?”

Dagny didn’t hear Sigyn, but Fulla did, and the sharp glance the cook sent her way was almost enough to make her regret saying it aloud. Almost. Sigyn gave Fulla a cheery smile as she left the kitchen.

As she made her way through the corridors of the Manor, Sigyn thought of Hela, likely alone once more in her room. On her way, she passed by the elevator Hela had mentioned, a metal eyesore of a thing that stood out amongst the rest of the manor. She thought of how gingerly Lord Odinson had picked her up and carried her; of the handles on the canopy poles and the low set of Hela’s mattress; of how he allowed her to keep a half-wolf and a snake as pets. Sigyn thought, also, of how a carriage had been sent for her to take her to Niflheim Manor. She’d thought she would have to find a mail coach but, to her surprise, they’d arranged to meet her at an inn and bring her the rest of the way.

It was unusual. When she’d mentioned as much to Mr. Tyr and wondered if they wouldn’t get into trouble for it, he’d only said that Lord Odinson didn’t worry about it.

Sigyn stopped outside the door to the study with a sigh.

 _Keep your head down,_ she told herself again.

The study was dark when she opened the door, and her small candle did nothing to illuminate it. Longing for the electric lights of her home, Sigyn found her way over to the windows, managing not to trip on anything by some miracle. The heavy curtains were meant to block out the cold as well as the light. Given the shiver that ran down Sigyn’s spine as she reached the window, they were only doing one of those tasks well.

Once the curtain was open and she could find her way around the room, Sigyn made to head to the fireplace. She stopped, her breath leaving her in a small gasp.

All around her were books. They lined the walls from floor to ceiling, with tidy piles even in the corners. Stacks rested on Lord Odinson’s large desk, so tall that Sigyn thought the man would be obscured by them once he sat down. And unlike some other family libraries she had been in, these books looked well read and loved.

Dagny had mentioned, briefly, that the Manor had a library, and Sigyn almost thought she’d wandered into that room by mistake. If this was what Lord Odinson’s study looked like, what did the library contain?

 _The fire._ With difficulty, Sigyn turned away from all the books and strode over to the fireplace. Even as she prepared it, though, her gaze kept finding its way to the numerous shelves and tomes.

How long had it been since she’d been able to sit down with a novel? She used to spend hours reading, lounging in her gardens with the sun shining down on her, Regis asleep at her feet. Her father used to listen to her ramble about whatever she was reading with such an expression of love and pride that thinking of it now made her chest hurt. Sometimes he’d call her into his own study to have her read aloud to him while he worked his ledgers or other such business.

Sigyn closed her eyes against the tightness in her chest. She missed him. She missed her family.

“And that’s why you need to focus on your duties,” Sigyn told herself quietly. She struck a match and dropped it in the middle of the logs she’d set into the fireplace. “Maybe one day, you can return home.”

She watched the fire grow, not really seeing it, before footsteps down the corridor reminded her of where she was. Hurriedly, she stood and, with one last look at the books, made her way out of the study—

Only to nearly collide with Lord Odinson in the hallway.

“Oh,” Sigyn gasped as she took a step back. She met his gaze, which held a hint of reproach. After a second, Sigyn dipped into a curtsy with a quiet, “Your Grace,” before stepping aside for him to walk past her.

The duke stood there for a moment, in which Sigyn was certain he was about to dismiss her, until he moved towards the open door of his study. Despite the warmth from the fire still lingering on her skin, Sigyn shivered. She stayed in her curtsy until the door to the study closed with a firm thud.

Sigyn eyed it for a moment, then stuck her tongue out at the closed door.

* * *

That night, long after Hela and the master of the manor had gone to bed, Sigyn finally collapsed onto her own. She’d barely had time to get used to the routine of the house while Lord Odinson was gone. His return meant everything had to be done that much faster, and her body was telling her of its displeasure in the aches of her feet and back.

She thought, suddenly, of the servants in her old home, and wondered how they’d been able to keep up such a calm front under so much stress. She supposed one simply had to get used to it, after a while.

Though if they were this busy when it was only two people to take care of, Sigyn couldn’t imagine taking care of an entire family.

“Well!” Dagny’s sigh announced her arrival as she closed the door behind her. “I was hoping you’d have longer to get settled before the duke returned, but…”

“It’s fine,” Sigyn said. “I was able to keep up.”

Dagny shrugged a shoulder before beginning her nightly ritual. Sigyn, already having dressed for bed and done her ablutions, lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Sleep had almost drifted away with her when Sigyn felt the edge of her mattress sink down.

Beside her, Dagny sat. She fiddled with the end of her braid, seemingly nervous.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Dagny said at length. “I am happy you’re here. After the last maid left, I was the only one for a while, and while Lord Odinson was gone it was manageable, but… I mean, it gets lonely up here sometimes, too.”

Wondering where she was going with this, Sigyn only nodded. Truth be told, she didn’t really have the energy to deal with Dagny’s sudden confessional, but she let the other girl go on rather than stop her.

A warmth enveloped her hand, and Sigyn looked down in surprise. Dagny had taken hold of her hand, her skin rough against Sigyn’s own.

Suddenly seeing where Dagny was trying to take this, Sigyn pulled her hand away.

“We should rest,” Sigyn said, turning onto her side facing away from Dagny. “There’s always more work to be done, isn’t there?”

A tense silence followed. Then, the weight lifted off her mattress, and Dagny quietly said, “Right. G’night, then.”

“Goodnight.”

Dagny blew out her candle and Sigyn put her own out. In the abrupt darkness, Sigyn forced her body to relax, her shoulders coming down from around her ears, the tightness in her chest easing.

She wished she could explain things to Dagny. She didn’t want to hurt her feelings or make her feel uneasy. But she wasn’t sure Dagny would believe anything she said, though it was the truth.

The truth of the matter was, Sigyn had never fallen in love with anyone. What was more, she’d never felt that so called attraction she’d read about in novels or heard her friends whisper and giggle about. Freyja had told her as a young girl that it would happen eventually. Sigyn had waited and waited, but it never had. She could see, objectively, that people were handsome or pretty, but it always left her cold.

And then there was the truth she could admit to no one: The last time Sigyn had forced herself to feel attraction, it had ruined her.

* * *

~~Papa,~~

~~I miss you. I wish I could be there with you.~~

* * *

“Lord Odinson wants to see you after breakfast.”

At first, Sigyn didn’t realize Dagny was speaking to her. Startled, she looked up from her bucket, where she was putting together a cleaning solution. Dagny merely met her gaze politely before turning away.

“He’ll be in his study, he says,” Dagny said.

 _This is it, then,_ Sigyn thought as she wandered down the same corridor she’d traversed the day before. _This is where he lets me go without a recommendation._ Being a between maid didn’t even pay that well, and Sigyn wasn’t attached to the job, but she needed the money. She wanted to kick herself for her stupidity and pride.

A portrait caught her attention. She hadn’t seen it the last time she’d come through. In it, a man with a severe look on his face stared out at the world, his hair only beginning to gray from its natural dark blond. He wore an eyepatch, and Sigyn found herself vaguely wondering how he’d come to lose an eye. She met the man’s gaze and shivered. She disliked the frown lines around his mouth, the dispassionate look in his one bright blue eye. Though she couldn’t put her finger on why, the portrait left her with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, as if she were being watched and found wanting in some way.

Sigyn quickly moved on.

At her knock, Lord Odinson said, “Come in.”

Steeling her spine against the worst, Sigyn stepped inside and, at the duke’s insistence, closed the door behind her. She came to stand in front of his desk. He continued to ignore her, staring down at his papers, pen in hand. Annoyed, Sigyn bit her tongue and allowed herself to glance around. A few of the stacks of books had been moved to give Lord Odinson a clearer view of the room. She could see some of them peeking out from behind his desk: He’d merely moved them to the floor. The fire crackled noisily and shadows danced on the walls. The curtains were closed once more, and Sigyn wondered how he didn’t feel suffocated in this room.

Finally, Lord Odinson signed his name on the paper he’d been working on and moved it aside to allow the ink to dry. As Sigyn watched with growing confusion and impatience—she had other duties that needed done, and he was keeping her from them—Lord Odinson fished out a fresh piece of paper and set it on her side of the desk.

“Write something for me,” he directed, holding his pen out to her.

Hesitating, Sigyn took the pen. He wanted her to dictate something for him? Surely not. Sigyn bent over the desk and poised her pen over the paper, waiting. When Lord Odinson didn’t speak, she glanced up at him to find him watching her.

“Your Grace?”

With a small sigh, the duke said, “Anything. Write anything. You’re not here to take dictation.”

Having no idea where this was going, Sigyn wrote her first name.

The duke shook his head. “Write more than that. An entire sentence.”

 _I should write ‘you’re an ass’ on here,_ Sigyn thought to herself mutinously. Instead, she wrote: “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”

When she was finished, Lord Odinson took the paper from her and read it over. His expression was unreadable to her.

“Fond of novels, are you, Miss Sigyn?” His voice was so quiet and smooth that she almost felt she had to lean in to hear it.

“I’m fond of some, Your Grace.”

“Your penmanship is neat,” Lord Odinson said. “And you can obviously read. You have your aitches, as well.”

A sliver of unease worked its way up her spine. Where exactly was he going with this? Had he found her out?

The duke set the paper down and met her gaze once again. “Hela has not stopped asking for you since I arrived,” he said. It was so different from what she’d expected him to say that Sigyn could only blink at him. “Miss Sigyn this, and Miss Sigyn that. She says you are a friend. She says Fenrir likes you, and Jor, as well.”

Absently, Sigyn wondered how one could tell whether a snake liked anyone.

Seeing that Lord Odinson seemed to be waiting for a response, Sigyn managed, “I’m… flattered by that, Your Grace.”

Lord Odinson waved a hand. “Can you dance?”

“I… passably.”

“Can you sing? Play the pianoforte? What languages do you know?”

“Respectfully, Your Grace,” Sigyn said, knowing she was interrupting him and not caring, “may I ask where this line of inquiry is heading?”

Lord Odinson sighed again, and this time, it was a heavy one. As if he carried some unseen burden on his shoulders. Sigyn held back a twinge of sympathy. He was a duke. His burdens couldn’t possibly be heavier than anyone else’s, and he had more help to deal with them than others did.

“I was ready to dismiss you,” he finally said. “But Hela begged for you to stay. She fought me on it. And perhaps,” he said slowly, as if reluctant to say the words at all, “I was wrong, and you had a point about what she needs.”

“Well, I did,” Sigyn said under her breath—but not low enough, for the duke rose an eyebrow at her.

Instead of calling her out on it, Lord Odinson said, “Hela needs a governess, someone to teach her how to be the lady she was born to be. You act as one used to speaking her mind. Peculiar, for a maid.”

Sigyn merely rose an eyebrow, mimicking his expression. She would not give anything away herself – no more than she apparently already had, at least. She knew she’d been flagging in her accent, but she hadn’t counted on the duke caring enough about a maid to pay attention to her and put the pieces together.

 _Until I went and made him pay attention to me._ Oh, she could kick herself.

“You haven’t been a maid for very long,” Lord Odinson said, “have you?”

Gritting her teeth, Sigyn said, “No, Your Grace. This is my first household.”

He nodded to himself once again and opened a drawer, pulling out more papers. He began flicking through them. “You will start as Hela’s governess tomorrow. There’s a room off of her chambers where you can move your things. I expect her to be trained as a lady is trained and more. I don’t hold with the idea of women being too weak for higher education. I will pay you twenty-five pounds a year.

“You will have to wait for my lawyer to come up with a proper contract, as I have none on hand,” Lord Odinson continued, as Sigyn stared at him in open shock. “It should arrive within a fortnight. Until then, I have only my word to give you that I will compensate you fairly for this time.”

“Wait,” Sigyn said, “I beg your pardon?”

Lord Odinson finally looked at her. “If that is a problem, then you may wait until you are able to look over the contract and sign it, but I would rather you begin immediately—”

Sigyn shook her head. “No,” she started, but the duke cut her off again.

“Is it the wage, then? I had heard that was the expected amount for a governess in the city. Fine; fifty pounds a year, then.”

Her head swam at that amount, when only a short time before, it would have seemed paltry to her. Sigyn put a hand to her forehead and said, “Is this a jest?”

A note of irritation found its way into the duke’s voice. “No.”

“I… you… I can’t be Hela’s governess,” Sigyn managed. “That position should go to Dagny. She’s been here longer than I.”

“She has not been trained as a lady.”

“Then there are agencies that provide trained governesses—”

Lord Odinson set his pen down slowly. His direct gaze made her voice die in her throat. The firelight played with the shadows on his face, and she couldn’t tell what his expression may have been.

“Other governesses may not… _handle_ Hela’s impediments as you have,” he said. “I will not waste my time in bringing other women here to interview them, only to have them scorn her.”

Hating that his objection made sense, Sigyn rubbed her eyes as an excuse to look away from his gaze. She couldn’t give a good reason to reject his offer. He wouldn’t care that it would disrupt the balance of the servants, that it would very likely cause resentment from Fulla and Dagny that she had been given a higher status position so soon after arriving. Dagny would be stuck with all the work once again.

What Sigyn hated more, though, was that all her reasonable objections fell away in front of the bare fact that she needed money. Her father needed her to make money, and fifty pounds a year could very well save them.

And then there was Hela. Alone and lonely, who had begged her father not to dismiss Sigyn for her rashness.

“May I… may I think on it, Your Grace?” Sigyn said slowly. “Give me tonight. I’ll have my answer in the morning. This is Lady Hela’s future we’re speaking of right now. I want to make certain I’m the right choice for this—for her.”

The duke stared at her for an uncomfortably long moment. Then he said, “Very well. Tomorrow morning.”

She almost forgot to curtsy to him before she left, her thoughts were in such a whirlwind.

Dagny found her soon after Hela had her midday meal. She pulled Sigyn aside in a corridor of the first floor and quietly said, “What did the duke want?”

To her shame, Sigyn hesitated. The urge to keep everything to herself was powerful—she’d only ever confided in Freyja, and even amongst her own friends Sigyn hadn’t opened up much. Or maybe she was only being a coward.

Dagny deserved to know, and she deserved to hear it from Sigyn, before anyone else could tell her.

“Well, he… he wants me to be Lady Hela’s governess.”

Dagny blinked, then took a step back, and Sigyn felt any chance of friendship crumbling away.

“Oh.”

“I haven’t accepted yet,” Sigyn hurried to add. “I wanted to speak to you, first. I tried to tell him that it should be you, that you’ve been here longer, but—”

“Me?” Dagny said with a shaky laugh. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about teaching a child. It took me forever to learn my letters. No, it—you should be her governess.”

Sigyn bit her lip. “But you’ve taken care of her for this long…”

“What, drawing baths and picking out her dresses and combing her hair?” Dagny shook her head. “I can do that. I can’t teach French or—or even pick out France on a map.”

Dagny took hold of Sigyn’s hand just as she was about to say more. “No, listen. We’ve all heard you struggling with that accent you put on. And your hands are softer than they should be. I don’t know why you’re trying to come across as someone lowborn, and I’m not asking to find out, but all of us guessed that you were a lady of some sort. This is good. This is what Lady Hela needs. And if you don’t take the position, I’m—well, I’m going to be very cross with you!”

A slow smile spread on Sigyn’s face. To her surprise, tears had formed in her eyes. She wiped them away hastily. “You’re a good person, Dagny. Truly.”

“Oh, I’ll be jealous sometimes,” Dagny said. “I’m not _that_ good. But you should do it.”

“Alright, alright,” Sigyn said. “Then I guess you get the servant’s quarters all to yourself again.”

“You do snore an awful lot,” Dagny said, grinning.

“Better than the scratching noise,” Sigyn said, trying for a light tone and failing.

Dagny paused uncomfortably, her smile fixed in place, then cleared her throat and said, “I’ll help you move your things to the governess’ room tonight. Don’t try to say no – I won’t be tired, and you don’t have very many things to move, anyway.”

* * *

Once more, Sigyn found herself at the door to Lord Odinson’s study. She knew he was still inside, as Dagny had complained of him taking his dinner in there instead of the dining room. She could just barely see a bit of light coming from the crack under the door.

At her knock, there was a moment of silence before the duke said, “Enter.”

Sigyn stepped inside and left the door open behind her. If Lord Odinson was surprised to see her back in his study so late at night, he chose not to show it. He had been staring at something in his hand when she’d entered; now he opened a drawer and let whatever it was slip from his hand inside.

“Miss Sigyn,” he said, his voice quiet. “And here I thought you would use the time I’d given you to the fullest. I hadn’t expected to see you back here until morning.”

“If you’re implying that I didn’t think this through,” Sigyn said, “then I did. I’m capable of working and thinking at the same time, Your Grace.”

Perhaps it was just a trick of the shadows, but Sigyn thought the duke almost smiled. The corners of his lips seemed to twitch upward. But when she looked closer his expression was the same carefully neutral one it had been before.

“I accept your offer,” Sigyn said, “but with conditions.”

The duke leaned back in his chair. “Somehow, I find myself not at all surprised.”

“You need to hire another maid,” Sigyn said, taking the chair across from him even though he hadn’t given her leave to do so. “With my becoming Lady Hela’s governess, the workload doubles for Miss Dagny. It’s unfair to her.”

Lord Odinson was quiet as he thought this over, rubbing his upper lip with a finger. Then he nodded. “I’ll see what can be done.”

“No one from the village will work here?”

He cast her a sharp glance. “Who told you that?”

“No one,” Sigyn said. “But it wasn’t hard to figure out for myself. Mrs. Fulla put advertisements in newspapers in cities miles from here. That would have only been necessary if no one could be found locally.”

Lord Odinson made a quiet noise. “What are your other conditions?”

“You allow Lady Hela to go outside,” Sigyn said. “We’ll start small. A few minutes out in the gardens until winter fully sets in. In the spring, we can go outside and I can teach her to paint landscapes. Perhaps by summer, she’ll be able to take a trip into the village. She’s the lady of this ducal seat; the people need to see her.”

At this, the duke shook his head. “The village is out of the question. The rest, I’ll allow.”

Sigyn bit her tongue to stop herself from arguing with him. There would be time later to renegotiate and change his mind. She only had to get her foot in the door now.

“Fine,” Sigyn relented. “Will you allow me to go into the village and buy fabric, then, to repair her dresses and add to her hems? Her dresses are too short, and if we cannot send for a modiste to come here, and I cannot take her into town to be fitted properly…”

“Fine,” Lord Odinson repeated after her. “You may do as you see fit in this case.”

In truth, Sigyn didn’t care if Hela’s dresses were too short. She was a child and deserved to be able to run around as a child did, without skirts getting in her way. But going into the village would give Sigyn a better lay of the land and an idea of the attitude Lord Odinson’s tenants had towards him and Hela.

She did not intend to leave Hela locked away in Niflheim Manor for the rest of her life.

“Do we have an accord, then, Miss Sigyn?” Lord Odinson said.

“We do.”

“Excellent,” he said. He stood and went over to a wooden stand, where a decanter and glasses sat. He poured two glasses a shot of some dark liquid before returning to Sigyn, handing her one of them. “Let’s drink to it, then, in the absence of any proper contract.”

Sigyn rose an eyebrow. “Or we could shake on it, as men do.”

Lord Odinson waved a hand. “Whichever.”

 _What a strange man he is,_ Sigyn thought as she peered at him over the rim of her glass. The lord of Niflheim Manor was not at all what she had expected. She didn’t know what to make of him, not yet.

But this time, when she curtsied to him before leaving, she did it without as much difficulty as she’d had before.


End file.
